


serendipity

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, angst angst angst, but a happy ending okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kageyama thinks that hinata is enchanting, some sort of galaxy.<br/>hinata thinks that he doesn't deserve kageyama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	serendipity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buu/gifts).



> to do important coursework or to write while drinking tea w/ excessive amounts of sugar? i opt for the second choice, of course :)  
> i quite like this! dedicated to buu bc she is literally my favourite writer oh my go d she is so incredibly talented bye
> 
> {lowercase intended + go stalk me @jetpackcrows on tumblr!}

their eyes are as dark and chatoyant as the night cloaking their bodies when they walk away. their gazes are made of crystal-soft obsidian, clouded over with the very opposite of love, and melting into each other like asphalt on concrete; and they cannot, cannot,  _cannot_  bring themselves to look at the other without feeling tight and suffocated and utterly deprived of oxygen, as though they're about to die.

one of them is already as black as the night, tall and looming and his demeanour impassive and pale like the moon, and his long, slender, stardust-white hands are clawed-up in frustration and anger and pent up emotion; and then there's the other, the one who is the epitome of daytime, with hair as flame-bright as the sun and irises with entire galaxies contained within and a smile wider than the universe itself. but today, his smile has been cut and replaced with tiny fragments of nothingness, and it's a shame, isn't it? his irises are devoid of any emotion, and his hair may still resemble the sun, but it's goddamn blinding and it hurts the very being of whoever lays eyes upon him. he's empty, and he doesn't know what to do.

"i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry..." the boy with the fiery hair and sad eyes is murmuring repeatedly and monotonously, over and over and over and  _over_  to no-one in particular; and the countless rows of starry billboards and bright lamp-posts and vivid advertisements illuminate his grief-ridden visage. over and over and over and over he is whispering, almost madly, and he's not looking where he's going at all; and suddenly there are tears spilling down his face and choked sobs erupting from between his lips, and he cannot see anything, cannot feel anything, cannot even  _move_ , and he barely registers the fact that he's on the road and there are lights coming towards him. they are like shooting stars, an impending cataclysmic apocalypse, and he's still numb, still rooted to the spot with his eyelids scrunched up tight. he doesn't want to see anything, be anything, and god, he doesn't even want to  _exist_  anymore- his breathing is erratic, his heart rate climbing, his fists clenched tight like he's fighting a battle with himself, and he's spinning in maddening goddamn circles with nothing to see but the cracks on the pavements blurring into each other like the spinning constellations perched on top of the city, and-

and barely seconds pass before he's descending, goddamn it, falling to the ground in this stupid,  _stupid_  spiral of shame, and shit- all of a sudden there's a loud car-horn puncturing the deafening silence ( _deafening! deafening!_ ) and blood-curdling shouts are piercing through the crowds of people, through the endless lines of colourful shoppers and blank-faced citizens, and ( _what's happening? what the hell is happening?_ ) a soundless scream escapes his lips as his pupils dilate and he sees death himself waving cheerfully before reaching forward with cold, skeletal hands; veins; muscles; bone.

and time stands still. and the wind howls. and a lone crow circles overhead, its molten amber orbs stabbing into the back of the other boy, the one who's already wrapped in the essence of crepuscular nothingness. and everything is frozen.

the boy slowly turns, and his eyes suddenly widen. they were sapphire-blue, before, but now they're pooling with rusted golds and lacquer reds and choked yellows, all the colours of a wildly goddamn alive fire which cannot burn itself out; and he's hopeless, he's  _hopeless_  as he sinks to the ground at the sight before him. the car, the boy with the flowery, florid hair, the manic onlookers all staring in shock, frozen in some sort of real-life daguerreotype; and the edges of his vision are tinted with rose gold and hushed bronzes, seeping out ruby-red blood, mercury poisoning. it drips menacingly to the ground as he struggles to breathe.

everything's gone. his entire life is crumbling to diamond-bright splinters before his very eyes, twinkling innocently in the starlight, and god, he is  _ruined_. he is so gone.

the boy himself is the night, and his daylight has just run out of time. the polaroid camera capturing this very moment whirrs out with a tragic, foreboding hiss, and all that the glossy photograph shows is blackness. blackness, and nothing else.  _nothing at all_. 

sirens wail in the distance as he sinks into this dark abyss, watching the soul leave his other half.

the night is hopeless. and so is he.

_** two hours earlier ** _

"tobio-kun! tobio-kun!"

it's nine in the evening, and kageyama and hinata are celebrating their five-year anniversary; the one day that marks the then fifteen-year-old kageyama kissing the neon-haired boy in a fluster and a flurry, his cheeks flushed and hands shaking after a particularly heated volleyball game, and never leaving his side after that. the world is slowly bleeding into shades of indigo, blue, black, and the clock ticks on, striking heavily with every passing hour.

winter is flourishing in the city of tokyo, and as kageyama waits for his boyfriend to turn up, he watches the lively scenery of his ambience. the trees are threadbare and lustrous and imminent against the backdrop of the violet sky tonight, and they are studded with star-like christmas lights, bright and twinkling in the darkness; and people are rushing all around him, desperate to meet their own friends and families and significant others in the unyielding bustle, and the wind is whispering wistfully as it weaves through the crowds towards kageyama. his scarf flutters in the slight breeze, then, and that's when he hears the shrill and familiar voice of hinata, calling out to him with that so completely intoxicating and so completely addictive tone of his. it's dripping with honey and layered with a thousand different layers of pure, unadulterated love, and cuts through the buzz of the ordinary townsfolk easily, tinged with the mellifluous sweetness it carries around as a constant.

it's not hard to spot hinata hurrying towards him in the moonlight, anyhow, even without his voice; and kageyama watches his boyfriend approach him with a smile a mile wide, glowing in the effulgent illume of the streetlights, and he returns the gesture with the trademark teasing, sultry smirk he's known for. 

hinata's bundled up in a navy-issue, dark blue coat and black gloves tonight, and the stark contrast of his pale skin and rich, lucid hair is something beautiful, something which throws the earth off of its very axis. it spins away into fleeting oblivion as hinata draws near and finally reaches the taller boy, his cheeks dusted with rhyolite pink and eyes a kaleidoscope of twisting, turning colours, sights, sounds; and he peers up at kageyama through long, light eyelashes, an almost longing look in his gaze as he speaks. "it's been so long," he says, and kageyama doesn't know whether he means since they first got together or since they last saw each other, but it doesn't matter, either way- no matter what he meant, it can't stop the dark-haired boy from feeling his heart swell and veins dilate with the sudden rush of blood racing through his entire body, butterflies seemingly erupting from his stomach and fluttering away deep into the crevices of his mind. 

he bends down carefully as he absorbs the look of bliss and contentment on hinata's face, and as the tangle of humans blur all around them, kageyama kisses him slowly- savouring every minute, every second, every moment he's able to spend with the boy. it may be cold, so utterly cold, but the two are wrapped in each other's warmth eternally; and kageyama senses himself grasping gently at hinata's waist as they continue, feels himself stroking the slight jut of his hip bones with slow, languid fingers. hinata tastes like hot chocolate and melting cakes drizzled with sugar icing and the sweet, melancholy bitterness of winter itself, and he can't get enough of the other boy, he really can't; he  _revels_  in him, keeping their lips and bodies pressed together as closely and for as long as he possibly can, until they're both panting and need to draw away from each other to survive. it's sweet and addictive, and when hinata pulls away and tilts his forehead so it's pressed against kageyama's, even then their proximity is boundless. he swipes a finger softly across the lips of the taller boy experimentally, breathless, and feels shivers run down his spine when kageyama makes a low noise in the back of his throat. he steps away willingly, then, knowing that otherwise he'd be unable to restrain himself in such a public area, and looks around at the alive city all around them. 

"shall we go, then?" he says, looking up at kageyama with hope reincarnate in his eyes, and he nods silently, fringe mussed and lips swollen cherry-red. he holds out his arm and they join hands, intertwine their fingers, and hinata tugs his other half behind him, walking purposefully through the crowd in a very specific direction.

they talk almost ceaselessly as they stumble across the flower-twined streets, roads, little cobbled pathways and pavements and sidewalks. it's taken years to build, but now they're the sort of couple who can exchange words for hours on end and then simply lapse into serene silences just as quickly, all without feeling vexatious or awkward or completely and utterly out of place. it's strange enough on its own, but it gains just that much more meaning when considering the extent of kageyama's social anxiety and inability to hold conversation for longer than a few minutes; and it's true, so completely true that hinata really does bring out the best in the raven-haired setter, helps him trace out the highs and lows of life and discover the less obvious wonders of living with a flourish. it's  _incredible_ , really, how they work as a pair, understanding each other perfectly and filling in each other's gaps as if never there, and for that reason it didn't surprise anyone when they first announced that they were together, not in the least bit.

they talk about nothing and everything in particular while journeying, about their cromulent lives and the luminescence and insignificance of the universe itself and the serendipity of their first meeting. they talk about the smell before rain, and about the iridescent glow of the world surrounding them, and about the wanderlust they both feel on exotic, heavenly levels, how they want to seize and explore the world forcefully like two joint hurricanes raging on. they talk about the scent of wilting roses, about the flicker of fragrant candles, and about the feel of turning thin, yellowing parchment paper in a classic book, and most of all, they talk about themselves, how far they've managed to get and what they're going to do in the future.   
at the mention of days to come, hinata's smile wavers a little, becoming a sharp little line like vehement punctuation dotted across his features, and all of a sudden his expression seems to be pierced by razor-blade parentheses and semi-colons of arcane hesitance; but then they reach the place they've been meaning to find all this time, and the grin reappears on his face, as picturesque and enrapturing as ever. kageyama smiles, too.

the crowd had dwindled down to nothing a while ago, and now they're all alone in the starry night, their only company being the water slowly lapping beside them. they've made their way through the city to some sort of tiny reservoir at the very edge of life itself, a beautiful, unparalleled place with flower patches of lavender and periwinkle and rhododendron sprinkled across the periphery of the lake stretching into the darkness; and it's the kind of somewhere where the night seems to be touching everything on the earth in an almost surreal embrace, infinite and everlasting in its beauty. hinata runs, then, almost soars on his two feet into the deeply shallow water's edge, and he kicks off his shoes and socks and dips the tips of his toes into the freezing liquid-ice. he shrieks gleefully, playfully, and all of a sudden they're fifteen again, first finding this little secret place of their own, spending countless days under the shade of the towering trees and floating on top of the glossy, wild waves. they are memories the two of them share within both their minds and will never forget, not even when they're eighty, and the importance of this reservoir means that they find themselves here every single anniversary.

"come sit next to me, tobio-kun!" hinata yells across the surface, laughing joyfully. kageyama carefully steps across the damp, wooden logs criss-crossing over each other, coming to a halt beside hinata before settling down and crossing his long, lanky limbs in front of him. hinata smiles a loquacious smile then, and sighs, the happiness draining from his lineaments as quickly as it had arrived, and his breath mingling in the air above them as tear-stained cloud condensation.  
"what do you think the point of all this is?" he asks softly, suddenly, turning his little face up to the breeze and stars and closing his eyes, almost like a little child. it may seem strange to everyone else, but kageyama  _knows_  better than anyone else the way hinata's mood changes so rapidly, switching from euphoric to sombre to light-hearted to bittersweet in a matter of moments.

as for the question, kageyama doesn't want to answer, not just yet, and instead he looks at the wonderful human being sitting across from him with legs twined together, all lopsided fringe and toothy grins and eyes seemingly carrying the weight of the world behind them. he's beautiful, he really is, with solar bursts of helium behind his skin and pretty ultraviolet radiation underneath something which shouldn't be so incredibly celestial and angelic; and his hair is ruffling in the wind, lips chapped and rosy, neck exposed to the cold winter air around them. he kisses him in the spur of a second, and peppers his mouth all over his collar bones in thousands of butterfly touches, and then tells him what he thinks of him against the crook of his neck. hinata's response to the rare affection isn't so sure, and he says bluntly, "radiation is dangerous. i’m only ever going to hurt you." 

kageyama doesn't see the change in hinata's countenance in that moment, doesn't see the molten copper and bronzes and golds of his orbs swiftly blend into monochromatic emptiness, and he continues on with their conversation as if nothing's changed at all; but it's as though the earth has tilted, shifted on its axis, thrown a hundred million people off of the edge of the atmosphere spiralling into complete nothingness. he doesn't see a thing, and remains solely focused on their talk, their conversation.

"the point of all this," he says quietly, looking up into the faded clandestine sky thoughtfully with stained-glass, ultramarine eyes. "the point of all this," he repeats, "i guess, is to find some definition, some semblance of happiness amongst all the hurt in this world."  
he sighs then, just like hinata, and draws away with his eyelids closed, face upturned to the iridescent moon above them.   
"i think i've found my little puzzle piece of happiness, anyhow," he continues, looking at hinata and almost glowing. it's strange for kageyama to be talking this much, and this softly, really, but anniversaries call for the kinder side of him to shine through.  
"i’ve found it in you."

the whirlwinds moan relentlessly, rustling the silver-tipped treetops next to them, and the curves of hinata's mouth turn up slightly in a sad, sad smile. the orange-haired boy has never seemed so lacklustre, so dejected, and it's strange, honestly, the strangest thing to happen tonight. "do you really mean that?" he mumbles quietly to his partner, completely forlorn, and his gaze flickers down to the slow, overlapping tides.  
that's when kageyama really looks up and notices the look on hinata's face, the frontier filled with presentiment and fear and irrevocable sorrow. "shouyou-kun?" he finally manages to breathe out in broken words, scooting closer still to the boy and holding him poignantly in his arms. "is something wrong?"  
spirited clouds of foreboding and bitterness settle over them as the clock ticks on. "nothing," hinata replies, but he turns his entire body away from his lover, and that's when the axe finally seems to drop, when time begins to stand still. "i don't deserve you."  
"w-what?" kageyama splutters, and he's still a little confused, still a little unaware, but hinata goes on, his voice lowering with every word and becoming more and more choked, more and more strangled with anguish.  
"it’s just- i just," hinata finally gets out, a lump beginning to form in his throat. "you’re too good. to me, i mean. i just- i think we shouldn't- i think, y'know-"  
" _what_ , shouyou?" he prompts, ever so light, ever so quiet.  
"i- i think we'd both be better off if we... if we weren't together."

and time stands still. and the wind howls. and a lone crow circles overhead, its molten amber orbs stabbing into the back of kageyama, who's already wrapped in the essence of crepuscular nothingness. and everything is frozen.

the thousands, millions of crystal-sharp pinpricks in the sky abruptly seem to die, drain of colour, and the diamonds rain down on them, and dark, dark clouds slide over their only source of light. as hinata's face is covered by the burial shroud of his heart, all cloying-sweet sadness and creeping shadows, kageyama's heart seems to stop. and the only thing he can comprehend right now is,  _where did the moon go_? 

and the tiny, tiny box with a ring in his pocket suddenly seems to be weighing him down, dragging him to the ground, tearing him up vertically and smashing him into a thousand splinters of nothing; and the fibres of his soul are evaporating into this black hole he's being shoved into, and he can't breathe, he can't think, he can't  _feel_ , and his eyes are glazed over with what seem to be tears, and all he can hear are his own violent, strangled chokes, and his heart is thundering, thrashing,being _pulverised_ his chest, desperate to get  _out_ \- and what is air? what the  _fuck_  is air?  _where has the oxygen gone_?

and then hinata's running, running, a thousand unformed apologies bitter against his lips and vision clouded over by fat tears, and there is water cascading down his face, flying all around him in sparkling droplets as he escapes the mess he's gotten himself into, and kageyama's not the only one who can't breathe because he can't either- and why did he do that?  _why_? 

and then it happens, they make it to the high street, and hinata runs, runs, runs onto the road, sobbing and choking and unable to see anything- and everything is  _goddamn static_ , blurred shapes and lines and figures looming above him and trying to drown him, asphyxiate him- and kageyama's trying to walk away, trying so hard to walk away, his fingers wrapped around the box he never got to give to his lover because  _it's all fucking over_ , now- and then the car comes, the car fucking hits hinata, and now it's really all over. it's all over.

blackness reaches out with cold, frigid hands and smothers him as he watches hinata being carried away.

the night is hopeless, and so is he.

  _ **two days later**_

kageyama hates hospitals.  
the bare, all-encompassing white walls, the stench of chemicals and disinfectant and bleeding grief, the air thick with rainclouds of indelible sorrow and pity and false hope- it angers him to the very core of his being, makes his brain ache and heart shrivel, tightens every nerve in his body until he's as numb and paralysed as some of the patients held within this suffocating prison.  
what kageyama hates more than hospitals, though, is hinata being in the hospital.

he can't recall what happened that day very clearly- the pungent smell of burning asphalt and scorched dreams all around him, the feel of horror wrenching at his heart as he watched hinata crumble- but now, now all he can think of is how utterly wrong and how incredibly  _tiny_  hinata looks on his hospital bed. he's a small orange inferno, a baby candle flickering to its inevitable death, and kageyama wants to do nothing more than cradle him in his arms.  
  
he's been sitting in this hard, lacquer-blue chair next to the bed for what seems like an eternity, insisting on staying overnight, paying all the over-expensive fees, waiting for hinata to wake up; but the clock only tick-tocks, tick-tocks, on and on and  _on_  in an ominous rhythm which seems to only promise tragedy and despair.   
  
he doesn't know what to do anymore, he really doesn't. what is going on? what is even  _happening_? there's a stray lock of burnt sienna sitting on hinata's glowing, lifeless forehead, and kageyama slowly brushes it back, combs his hands through the boy's hair. "shouyou," he whispers, voice heavy with regret as he sinks onto the boy's chest, quivering with such unwanted emotion. "shouyou. wake up."  
the slow, irregular beat of hinata's heart only provokes him further, and all at once he grows more shrill, more hysteric. " _shouyou_!" he screams, his fists clenched tight and tears pooling in his blue-bright, azure eyes, and the oxygen's closing in on him again, blocking off his veins and arteries and soul and he can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't, he fucking  _can't_.  
" _wake up,_  for fuck's sake!  _i love you_! shouyou, wake the  _fuck_  up!"

sobs are resounding through his body, wrecking him, and kageyama is wild with pain, pain, pain, his throat burning, his vision constricting. he shakes hinata's body, over and over and over, as he cries and cries and cries, cries for what has happened and for what is happening and for what could have been. fuck, he is so goddamn broken, shattered into a thousand million pieces, and he can't take it anymore- he's destructive, and the world all around him is distorting, and he's being drowned, impaled underneath a jagged, cacophonous tidal wave of harsh and horrendous reality, and how do you breathe? how the  _fuck_  do you breathe?

but then something's shifting underneath him, and his head snaps up in a panic, a frenzy, so hard that he almost breaks his neck; and suddenly there's hinata, and hinata is there, staring at him with wide eyes ringed with cobalt and gold and violet and exhaustion. and is this a dream? is this really happening? and kageyama sobs and sobs and  _sobs_  soundlessly, nothing but silence exiting his throat, and he's as helpless as a fish out of water.

"tobio-kun," someone croaks, and kageyama looks up, and it's hinata, it really is- and he's speaking, speaking,  _goddamnit_ , and his heart has never exploded so fast and so painfully before, thunder and lightning coursing through his entire body and veins and bones, electrocuting him.   
" _fuck off_!" he screeches, rubbing fiercely at his temples, the very essence of violence, and he has never been so anguished and pathetic and pitiful and goddamn  _relieved_  in his entire life. "shouyou, i-  _fuck_. i can't fucking do this.  _fuck off_."

he grabs hinata's face and smashes his lips against his, and he doesn't care about chapped his mouth is or how he tastes of salty tears and empty listlessness and blood-curdling anxiety; and they are one, in that moment, passionate and intense and so utterly profound, and kageyama grips hinata's throat so hard that he leaves cherry-blossom fingerprints on his neck and the scent of irrevocable fear, the fear of losing him again. " _fuck you_ ," he hisses against his lover's lips, his eyes shut tight to block out the pain, and hinata's crying too like on that fateful day, frozen rivers running down his face heavily like liquid-soft scars. 

kageyama leans back suddenly and seizes the other's silky, lustrous hair with a fervour, recklessly brave and infinitely reckless, bringing his head as close as he can to hinata's without kissing the living daylight out of him again. "i hope you know what you've  _fucking_  done to me, these past few days," he growls out between clicking teeth and blurred vision, tears flooding his very being. "you fucking idiot, thinking you don't deserve me and fucking running into a car. what were you thinking? what the  _hell_? i’m the one who doesn't deserve you!  _why would you do that to me_?!"  
"tobio-kun..." hinata whispers, and he's looking down again, unable to meet his significant other in the eye after his outburst. "i’m sorry."  
"sorry doesn't even begin to  _cut_  it!" kageyama snaps, and then he himself snaps, pinning hinata to the bed in a hard, desperate straddle and kissing him with so much fury, so much passion. he pulls ferociously at hinata's orange curls, and their kiss is too much teeth and too much tongue and the brutal knocking of noses and unhappiness, but it's the only way the both of them are able to clearly say ' _sorry_ '- and for them, it's perfect, it's flawed and it hurts but it's so goddamn perfect that they wouldn't want anything otherwise.

after a minute or two, kageyama draws back, panting heavily, like two days previous when he'd run after hinata desperately. the intimate clash with the other boy has done nothing to calm him, and instead the bomb-bright sparks in his veins are surging through his body and reigniting the raging fire within him, completely and utterly electrifying. his lips are puffy and so are his eyelids, tired from endless crying, and his cheeks are heated red; and in the heat of the moment, he grabs at something in his back pocket with heated fingers, feeling heat spill into his being from head to toe slowly.  _fuck_.

he thrusts the box in hinata's face, tiny and ocean-soft and velvety, and turns away gruffly, his cheeks stained crimson. "shouyou, fucking promise me you'll never do that again," he says in a low voice, pure anger and irascibility roughing up the edges of the throat, "and, fuck it, spend your life with me. i was going to ask you to marry me, dumbass, so do it,  _marry me_. and don't go fucking chasing shitty ass cars on the shitty ass road ever again, you understand?"

and time stands still. and the wind howls. and the lone beeps of machinery buzz on overhead, while hinata looks at kageyama with eyes so, so big, pupils dilated with garnet-bright alacrity and unmistakable euphoria.  
then he dives forwards and crashes their lips together with haphazard smiles and a jagged heart, grinning against his mouth and whispering " _yesyesyesyesyesyes_ ", and kageyama feels exquisitely dizzy, his eyes squeezed shut and hands knotted like chaos in hinata's fire hair. his tongue traces over the other's bottom lip slowly and they love each other, and they're a mess right now, oh god, they're a  _mess_ , but they both taste of saccharine happiness and bittersweet hope, and it's more than they'll ever need.

and yes, maybe the night is hopeless, and yes, maybe they are too. but they're going to get better.  
  
they always do.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope this turned out okay! thank you for reading as always (≧∀≦)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] serendipity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6609961) by [Shiro Talks (Shironeko_kohai)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shironeko_kohai/pseuds/Shiro%20Talks)




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